


This is a War, Not a Garden Party

by soloproject



Series: Mailman AU [2]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, M/M, Mailman AU, Various Star Trek Characters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-09
Updated: 2013-03-09
Packaged: 2017-12-04 17:42:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/713343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soloproject/pseuds/soloproject
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Jim is a mailman and Bones is a vet and his life is totally not like Gone with the Wind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This is a War, Not a Garden Party

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to Postal Service, originally posted here: http://midnight-city.livejournal.com/75852.html  
> 

Aside from visits from Joanna, a medium-rare steak with a side of potatoes and a glass of ten-year old brandy, and possibly winning the lottery, sleeping in is high on the list of things Leonard H. McCoy likes.

Definitely making the list is waking up leisurely with his boyfriend's mouth wrapped around his cock as bright rays of light intrude the room, letting him know that today is going to be tolerable. Even nice.

McCoy comes hard, throwing his arms over his eyes and breathing until his heart rate begins to slow. There was movement around the general area of his waist and a blond head pops out from underneath the covers and gazes up at him, mouth slick and looking very chipper.

"Pancakes?" Kirk asks.

 

They had, McCoy realizes, fallen into a comfortable domestic routine. Every morning, no matter how late they turn in, even after very athletic sex that had McCoy groaning about his back at work while Chekov and Sulu resolutely ignore every complaint, Kirk wakes up and goes for a run. Then he comes back, makes coffee, pushes McCoy out of bed and into the shower before leaving for his early morning mail run. Sometimes, he stops by the clinic and eats lunch with McCoy in his office and once or twice had managed (without much difficulty) to convince him to make out on his desk.

A terrible idea, if the way Chekov had walked in on them and then shot out of the office shrieking in Russian, had anything to say about it. There had been a full waiting room that day and that put a hold on some of McCoy's sexual fantasies, for sure.

Saturday nights, however, were reserved for movies before bed or couch, depending; then getting up in the morning for pancakes and orgasms as a prelude to a slow, comfortable day. The first few Sundays had gone off without a hitch, with McCoy turning on the news or checking his email or falling back into bed and Kirk doing whatever it was he did.

Then, one Sunday, McCoy happens to look out the window and sees precisely what Kirk does on lazy Sunday mornings.

"What the hell are you doing!?" McCoy shouts at him from the porch in his pajamas. Kirk is wearing old basketball shorts that ride low on his hips, his bare chest glistening in the sun, whilst making a slow turn with the lawn mower that had every single muscle that could be seen above the waist flexing with effort.

"Mowing your lawn, what does it look like?" Kirk smirks at him, pausing to run his hands through his sweat soaked hair.

McCoy frowns, feeling something is wrong with this picture. "You don't need to do that," he tells Kirk. " _Jean-Luc_ does that...where the heck is that kid anyway?"

"Hey, Dr. McCoy," Jean-Luc says, sitting on the front steps of his front porch with Worf. He looks bored and McCoy realizes exactly what _is_ wrong with the picture.

Mrs. Picard is sitting on her front lawn on a folding chair, with a big hat and a pair of sunglasses and a pitcher of lemonade on a folding table. She's wearing those mommy shorts that button over the waist and a-- good Lord-- bikini top.

McCoy takes a step back, as if he'd been hit by the heat wave with a physical slap. But as he turns to scan his street, he realizes that the row of houses directly across from him had people camping out on the front lawn or on their porch, sunbathing or sitting around, watching the tableau play out on his lawn. His neighbors, sitting around casually in clothing that if gathered and combined, would not fill a good-sized cardboard box.

They had been watching _Kirk_ like he was a character from some kind of suburban pornography, doing menial tasks with absolutely no economy of movement and then some, bending over way too much just to shut off the lawn mower and cheerfully taking the glass of lemonade that Mrs. Picard brings over, with a "hey, thanks, Mrs. Picard," and shooting amused looks in McCoy's direction.

McCoy feels his head reel as he tries to figure out when and how Kirk had managed to become so comfortable here, so much so that people had actually started to expect that he'd be at McCoy's, mowing the lawn or fixing or washing the car in slow motion like he was in a pop music video. He pinches the bridge of his nose and rewinds his thoughts back, way back, and tries to build a mental list of all the things that had happened over the last two months they'd been together that he may have overlooked.

The garbage disposal that needed fixing that had magically started working again. The leak in the garage roof that had reached Chinese water torture levels when it dripped onto his car during the brief summer storm. The fridge that was never empty. The garbage that was always fanatically organized into recyclables. The clean garage. The clean attic. The clean basement. The clean kitchen. Jim's drawer in the dresser, his half of McCoy's closet. Jim's shaving cream, toothbrush, ridiculously fruity shampoo. The bike he uses during short or light shifts when he didn't need the mail truck, currently leaning against the wall in the foyer.

And then it dawns on McCoy.

"Jim," McCoy says, beckoning Kirk over. Kirk follows energetically, grinning at the sight of him.

"Jim, don't you have a place of your own?" McCoy asks. Kirk's face falls.

 

As far as bumps in relationships go, McCoy didn't even think that qualified as a big one. He'd never been particularly good at relationships to begin with and was generally pleased that this one was relatively low maintenance-- Jim just _got_ him. Everything happened so in the moment that two months had blown by where he'd just felt... _happy._

So, when Kirk had said, very simply, "Yes, Bones, as a matter of fact, I do," and pushes past him to go back into the house, McCoy thought nothing of it. But then he somehow missed when Kirk had seemingly left and didn't come back that night and the night after that and after that and only while McCoy was trying to force a giant pill down a cat's throat had he realized what had happened.

"Oh shit," he said and yelps when the cat scratches him in reply. "Goddammit, I'm veterinarian, not Scarlett O'Hara!"

 

McCoy tries to catch Kirk while he delivers the mail but remembers that Kirk is covering for someone's afternoon shift until the end of the month and would only come by when McCoy was already at work.

McCoy tries calling Kirk at work but is always put on hold for so long and eventually hangs up. He could never muster the patience to sit through a looped recording of Fur Elise to wait. The mail still comes but it seemed cold and somewhat lonely, stuffed into his box or piled on his step.

The kicker is that McCoy realizes that he had somehow completely neglected to get Kirk's number. He tries to Google Kirk on his laptop before he pushes it away and writhes in embarrassment for ten minutes because someone should never, ever have to Google their own _boyfriend._ It was right up there with cutting up your curtains and sewing a dress to please the gentry.

McCoy knew he'd been the shitty one, wooing Kirk by creepily ogling him while he got his mail delivered and then jumping him after getting him to deliver a box of lube and condom he was too cowardly to buy personally at the drugstore. McCoy grimly promises to powers-that-be that he would be spending a lot of time making it up to Kirk, so long as someone cared to bestow his location by some divine intervention.

 _Leonard_ , he could hear his grandmama's Southern accent in his head, _you're forgetting how you were raised, son. A gentlemen knows how to treat a lady right._

 _Sorry, grandma_ , McCoy thinks, _but if anyone is the lady in this relationship, it's me._

 

Where to start's going to be a problem. There are precious few people he can speak to about personal things, fewer still who were willing to counsel him about his boy troubles. God, he was almost forty going on fourteen, McCoy thought with a wince, it was getting embarrassing.

Chekov is sympathetic at first but after McCoy traps him in their stockroom and bombards him with questions, begins to avoid him with a suspicious look on his face.

"Why are you asking me this!?" Chekov exclaims, trying to wedge his way around McCoy while the vet blocks his path in the hallway like a ridiculous game of freeze tag.

"You're the only one with experience!" McCoy argues, following Chekov down the hall when the assistant finally manages to squeeze past.

"Hikaru and I live together," Chekov says, looking over his shoulder before ducking into an examination room. "He asked, I said yes, end of story!"

Sulu wasn't much help, either. "You know, it was more fun when you were going through your gay crisis and was actually trying to avoid having to ask for advice," he tells McCoy when he brings him his coffee.

McCoy grunts in reply. Sulu takes pity on him and offers him the last Boston creme.

"Not that this isn't deeply entertaining because I've never heard of someone so into another person and completely failing to get his number or his email after two months of fucking, I mean--" He laughs when McCoy starts shouting for him to get out of his office, despite being muffled by a donut.

 

"We should form a committee! Present a united front!" Janice Rand says. All around her, women murmur their assent and McCoy wonders how in the world he has somehow gotten himself invited to a ladies' lunch.

"The food is delicious and you look like you need some good advice and distracting," Janice had offered the day before, when she ran into and cornered him at the grocery store. McCoy had been staring at the shelf of peanut butter in a daze, trying to remember if Kirk liked crunchy or creamy and he had felt like a zombie when he'd nodded his head, not really registering what he had agreed to.

"We'll fix this," Tonia Barrows says while pouring him a cup of tea. "We'll help you, Dr. McCoy. Besides, if you and Jim are fighting, I have to say, it's not only you. He seems really out of sorts. Not on the surface but if you look carefully, he seems really worn out. It's really romantic."

McCoy's head snaps up. "What?" He replies, trying not to sound high-pitched and mortified while the other ladies giggle and nod in agreement.

"Today's agenda is about whether or not we were going to make your life hell for hurting Jimmy," Mrs. Crusher admits and McCoy believes her, by virtue of her name alone. "But then Janice here told us how she found you in the grocery, looking like an opera heroine having the vapors and we can't have that! Neighbors help neighbors!"

Janice beams at him. "And it's more fun to try and get you back together again! Like a Choose Your Own Adventure romance novel."

In that moment, McCoy makes up his mind to cancel his library card and vows never again to show his face there, for as long as Janice Rand is the head librarian.

"Why don't we look him up in the phone book?" Mrs. Janeway finally chimes in, putting down her teacup with a decisive clink. McCoy looks up at her in surprise. He hadn't thought of it but then again, it had been a while since he's picked up an actual phone book. Maybe these ladies were onto something, after all.

"Or, ladies, how about we activate the phone tree," Mrs. Janeway suggests and pulls out a giant hardbound notebook. "Don't you worry, Leonard, we are all on your side. And if Jim Kirk wants to mess with one of our ladies, then he'll have to go through all of us."

"Wait!" McCoy protests, putting down his own teacup. "I'm not exactly a lady..."

Christine Chapel reaches over and, taking advantage of his obvious light-headedness takes both his hands in hers and rubs them. "Oh honey, of course not." McCoy just nods and picks up his tea again.

"Not literally, anyway," she offers and then rubs his back sympathetically when he starts to choke.

 

Usually, McCoy refrains from having to talk to his daughter but at this point, he's bordering on desperate. Weren't teenaged girls the authority on (theoretical) boy problems? McCoy refuses to resort to stealing Sulu's copy of Cosmopolitan ( _Are things between you too good to be true?_ ) and for a hellish second, he had been seriously tempted to grab the Seventeen magazine that his receptionist had left in the waiting room ( _Is your boyfriend saying one thing and meaning another?_ ) so he did the next best thing: he calls Joanna.

"Hi, daddy," she greets him, sounding a little sad.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" McCoy says, taken a little aback by her tone and completely forgetting why he had called her in the first place.

"Mom decided to be Born Again," Joanna says. "She wants to send me to a Youth Mission Camp."

"Oh," McCoy isn't sure how to reply to that, given how he can't even help himself.

"I don't want to go, daddy. There are no boys. And they don't allow make-up or open shoes or skirts that aren't two inches below the knee."

"You could come here if you want? A couple of weeks earlier then you normally do?" McCoy offers, conveniently leaving out the part that he also doesn't allow boys or make-up and can live without the miniskirts, too. But he often never knows how much he misses Joanna until he hears her voice and genuinely enjoys spending time with her. Just the sound of her makes McCoy feel tons better, like things will always work out in the end.

"Really?" Joanna says, delighted. But then she lowers her voice to ask: "But dad, aren't you living in sin?"

McCoy scowls. "Did your mother tell you that? Put her on the phone, right now." If he's going to learn to fight for someone, now's a good time to start as any.

 

Spock is very high on the list of McCoy's last resorts.

"Why are you talking to me?" Spock asks, flatly. He's standing in his yard, wearing crisp Bermuda shorts and a starched white cotton button down, his head covered in a khaki fishing hat that looked like it had never seen a body of water in its life. He's wearing a pair of bright orange Crocs while watering his bushes.

McCoy scowls at him over his fence.

"Why can't you just buy a set of sprinklers like regular people do?" He grouches at Spock, who just looks at him placidly.

"I find this seemingly menial task soothing," Spock says.

"Honey, you missed a spot," a silky voice calls out and McCoy cranes his neck to see Uhura stretched out on a deck chair by Spock's pool, wearing pieces of Kleenex disguised as a bathing suit. She's magnificent, gleaming in the sun. The Squire of Gothos is sprawled across another deck chair and purring like a motorcycle.

"I have covered this entire area without consequence," Spock calls back at her, even though his voice sounds exactly the same in pitch and volume. It just... _carries_ , McCoy thinks.

"What does the neighbor want, honey?" Uhura calls back again. She pushs down her sunglasses and glares at McCoy.

"He is merely inquiring the whereabouts of Jim. It seems they are having a 'lover's quarrel.'" Spock tells her, even though McCoy is sure they know everything and are just fucking with him.

"I see," Uhura pushes her sunglasses back on and lays back down on her deck chair. Spock turns his body from the waist a few degrees to the left and waters a patch of grass. McCoy watches the whole thing in silent fascination before he remembers what he's supposed to be doing.

"Hey, listen, I know you know where he is." McCoy asks, running a hand through his hair. He supposes he looks a little crazy but it was the weekend-- Sunday, in fact-- and that he looks and feels as unkempt as his front lawn's currently looking without Jim's attention. "And this is really between Jim and me so if you please just tell me wh--"

Spock holds up a hand to shut him up.

"You hurt his feelings," Spock says and if someone with the emotional range of a rock could tell him so plainly that he had gone and fucked up the best thing that's happened to him of late, then McCoy is clearly the biggest asshole on the planet.

"I know," McCoy says, deflating against the fence that separates their two backyards.

"I believe I have said that I would not interfere but implied if you hurt him, I would retaliate in a very unsatisfactory manner."

"I know!" McCoy groans.

"I am a scientist, I know how to dispose of a body properly," Spock goes on, although he stops looking as if he's paying any attention to McCoy. "And although the science is very problematic, there is a show on television that is very inventive about the disposal of bodies. I believe it's called 'Bones'," Spock says, giving McCoy a sharp sideways glance.

"Nice to know," McCoy replies. "Look, I will make it up to you and Uhura if you would just tell me where he is," he begs, imagining situations with fake bacon and condoms. "Anything you need, vet services, coffee--"

"He is currently staying--," Spock interrupts him while he bends to turn off the water. He lifts his hand to point across the yard. "--in our guesthouse."

McCoy practically vaults over the fence. "Thanks, Spock, you know I wouldn't ask you if it wasn't so--," he says, clapping Spock on the shoulders for a second.

Spock gives him what McCoy guesses was probably a withering look. "Frankly, Doctor," he says. "I don't give a damn."

 

When Leonard was fourteen and still living with his parents in Georgia in a town where there wasn't much to do and the only kids he hung out with were the ones he'd known forever, it had been the biggest thrill of his life kiss Charlene Adams at the top of the Ferris wheel at the county fair. Her braces were cold against his lips and he was too shy to stick his tongue in her mouth but she was a sweet girl and didn't mock him when it was over.

He'd promptly ignores her after that.

When Leonard was in high school, he'd taken Lizzie Jones to the dance. She was the prettiest girl at school and everyone had looked at him with envy all night. When it was over, he hardly spoke to her until graduation ceremony and after that, he left town so fast he hardly gave her or anyone else back home a second thought.

It had always been like that for McCoy, all throughout college and then veterinary school, sprinkled here and there with several short-lived flings and one-night stands. He wasn't interested in anything long term. His work was fulfilling and soothing and consistent and predictable.

And then there was Jocelyn, who was the first woman who he'd never had to call back because she had called him first and insinuated herself into his life before he'd known it. Who had let him and reminded him of all the important dates and planned their wedding and ultimately, planned their divorce. The problem was that when it came to relationships, McCoy wasn't too good at the paying attention part. He'd tried, liked the build-up and the intense conversations and the sex but as soon as it hit a lull, it had simply fallen away from his mind, until it sparked to life again, like two stones being hit together to restart the fire.

McCoy can recall whole dinners where he and Jocelyn didn't so much as speak, followed by good, comfortable sex where they knew exactly how to please each other finishing with rolling over to their side of the bed and falling asleep. And then Jocelyn told him she was pregnant, which he had never anticipated having never considered children before and suddenly, he was back in the game. He'd fallen in love the moment the doctor put Joanna in his arms. It had been okay for years after that because he was fascinated by this little baby creature who looked so much like him and Jocelyn had liked him as a father.

But as soon as Joanna was old enough for school, it was back to the same old things until he came home one day and Jocelyn told him that it was over.

Thinking about it made his chest ache but it played like a movie in his mind as he jogged around the pool towards the guesthouse. What hurt more was the realization of his own reticence, of not noticing when things needed noticing, how dangerous it had all been then and now.

"I hope you know what you're doing," Uhura said, coolly, as he walked by her deck chair.

"Me too," McCoy replied, stopping for a bit.

"You get this one free pass, Dr. McCoy," Uhura shoots back, shifting around on her chair. "But it might not be so easy the next time."

McCoy often wonders what had inspires such loyalty in Kirk but he knew he felt it too, he'd just been too blind to see. But the matter of fact was Kirk had picked _him_ , just like he'd picked Uhura and Spock and he was completely the type to throw everything this thing they had and McCoy hadn't seen it, until it was too late. He nods at Uhura and continues on the path to their guesthouse to knock on the door. It's unlocked so he slides it open when no one replies.

Kirk is laid out on the pull-out couch, sullenly playing Halo 3. He gives McCoy a cursory glance that makes the vet feel like he's going to be ignored but eventually pauses the game. Kirk looked terrible, tired and rumpled, not in the adorable way, just the irritated, shower-forgetting way.

"Hey," McCoy manages, his chest feeling empty. He goes to sit next to Kirk who moves over to give him a little room.

"Hey yourself," Kirk said, listlessly.

"So, I am stupid," McCoy starts.

Kirk just looks at him, kind of pissed. "Ya think?"

"I know you were kinda trying to go easy on me, maybe letting me skip working out all the kinks in...you and me, whatever we have," McCoy continued.

"Whatever we have." Kirk echoes, his mouth flattening into a line.

"But the thing is, other than Jocelyn, I've never had to work so hard at a relationship before and even then, it hadn't worked out. I am really good at being competent, for me, but until you, there hasn't been-- well, this is hard to say but--"

"You mean, all the spying and watching and ordering stuff for me to deliver was some kind of personal kink and now the magic is gone or whatthefuckever?" Kirk said, grimly.

"No! Wait," McCoy said, trying to process those words. "I didn't mean it like that."

"No, _you_ listen to me," Kirk said, turning to face McCoy fully. "I can't help being a nice, charming, flirts with everybody kind of guy. It helps with dealing with people. But I liked you the instant I met you-- really, hopelessly, disgustingly liked you-- and I didn't know how to go about it so I...I just did my thing, you know? To see if you would like me too, just like everyone sort of likes me and then you _tried so hard_ , I started getting confused towards the end. You would not believe how relieved I was when you kissed me that first time because I have never wanted anyone so badly in my life, even when they were being unintentionally creepy!" Kirk said, his voice starting to rise.

"I wasn't trying to be creepy!" McCoy said, shocked and Kirk sort of made strangled noises of frustration. "But I'm really sorry about that--"

"I don't know if you think your clock is ticking," Kirk stands up and takes menacing step towards McCoy and jabs him in the chest with a finger. "And I happened to be some nice young tail who was willing put up with your bullshit but in case you hadn't noticed, I was wooing you!"

"Wooing?" McCoy said, biting his lip.

"Wooing! To seal the deal!" Kirk shouted, waving his hands around and turning kind of pink in the face. "What, did you want me to give you my letter jacket and ask you to go steady?!"

"I'm sorry!" McCoy said, defensively. "I'm really sorry and I don't want to fight, Jim, I...I want to apologize. For seriously overlooking stuff and kind of assuming it was always going to be smooth-sailing. For you, already trying to take care of me and me not noticing. You'd have to kick my ass sometimes, if this is going to work. Seriously, you're allowed."

"Oh, I will," Kirk said, his eyes getting all dark and glittery.

And now for the hard part. "Would you move in with me? I mean, I want you to....not just because the thought of living with Spock and Uhura is just...just _no_ ," McCoy said, emphatically. "Besides, I think most of your stuff's there anyway and it's not so much moving in with me as it is...coming back home?"

Kirk just crosses his arms and frowns at him, expectantly.

"And," McCoy threw his arms into the air in defeat. "I'm in love with you, alright?"

 

The kiss is hot and more than a little dirty and already filling the hollow space that had been McCoy's chest for a week. It was a little gratifying to learn it must have been agony for Kirk too, given the way he was humping McCoy's leg.

"God, I missed you," Kirk said, biting McCoy's shoulder and down his neck. "You are such a jackass."

"Hey," McCoy said, trying for venom and failing. He kissed Kirk fervently, sucking his tongue like it was a maximum-strength painkiller. "Hey, let's bring this home, okay?"

Kirk nodded and stood up like it hurt. He tugged at McCoy's arm and pulled him to his feet, meeting him for another kiss, chaste, this time and so sweet McCoy vowed that he was never going to fuck this one up again because a.) He really was too old for stupid relationship games; b.) He was kind of disgustingly in love and c.) He was a jackass and Kirk still took him back, hallelujah, hallelujah, amen.

"You still haven't explained why you were living in Spock's guesthouse," McCoy said, digging his fingers into Kirk's hair as he pulled him into a hug, holding him tight for a second just to breathe into his neck.

"Tell you later. I can come back for all this stuff, Bones, let's crawl into bed and never leave until then," Kirk said, muffled into McCoy's shoulder and then pulled away, reaching to slide the door open and revealing Uhura and Spock, standing side by side, like a weird honor guard. Uhura's hands were on her waist, hip cocked, looking like a Sports Illustrated model but one who could kill you with their mind.

"Are you leaving?" She demands, looking back and forth between Kirk and McCoy. Kirk nodded and Uhura softened.

"Good. Because I was going to kick you out tomorrow, anyway. My parents are coming to visit." She turned on and strode towards the house.

McCoy looked at his neighbor. "I can't believe you got to marry someone that hot," he told Spock.

Kirk slapped a hand on his face and groaned.

Spock's face crumpled just the slightest, a hint of scorn in his eyes. "My wife is the correct temperature for a normal, healthy human being." He retorted and then went after Uhura.

 

"So, anyway, my roommate-- his name was Gary-- was all 'Hey, Jim, I've enlisted' and then forgets to tell me that the lease to our two bedroom was actually up at the end of the month," Kirk said later, while McCoy was making a spectacular constellation of hickeys on his chest. McCoy looked up at him, considering, and then bent his head again.

"Was he your boyfriend or something?" McCoy asked, clamping his teeth over Jim's left nipple and tugging.

"Ow, cut it out! No, he wasn't my, oh god, do that," Kirk said, when McCoy soothed over it with his tongue. "And then one day I come home and there's a note on the door that says I have twenty-four hours to pack everything up and leave," Kirk said, arching into McCoy's mouth and reaching between them to take McCoy's cock in his hand.

"Anyway, I was kind of bummed after that," Kirk kept talking, even as McCoy slid lower and took his erection into his mouth. "Because it was really near the office and my beat but then this route opened up and I guess, it worked out. Spock wouldn't let me live in a motel while I looked for another space."

"Mmmph," McCoy agreed, sucking Kirk down deep and watching him arch off the mattress.

"Yeah, he was all 'I do not believe it was prudent for you to be spending money when you know you are always welcome in my residence,'" Kirk said, starting to shake.

"I'll show you prudent," McCoy growled, flipping Kirk over.

After that, McCoy somewhat regretted that his previous relationships didn't progress as spectacularly after fights as this one did because make-up sex was _incredible_. He was under no illusions that Kirk had forgiven him right away, although the delicious whimpering noises he made when he came could have fooled him.

"Are you still mad at me?" McCoy asked, as he slid into Kirk.

"Not if you keep doing that," Kirk said, sounding languid and blissed out.

"Okay," McCoy said, putting his back into it. "Because Joanna is coming to visit next week."

 

Jocelyn seemed taken aback when he'd insisted she let Joanna visit him, instead of making her go to Jesus camp. They had never really argued before, even during the divorce. McCoy seemed to remember just acquiescing to everything because he didn't want it to be ugly for Joanna and that it had cost him missing out see his little girl grow up.

"What's gotten into you?" Jocelyn asked, sounding more surprised than angry.

"I don't want to get into that," McCoy had said because he couldn't give her an answer that wasn't completely debauched. But in the end, Jocelyn agreed to put Joanna on a plane and McCoy had convinced Kirk to come pick her up with him, "unless you want to be waiting at home like a housewife or something."

"Yeah," Kirk had said. "But what housewife would do this?" He asked and flipped McCoy onto his stomach and rimmed him until he was sobbing into the pillow.

Kirk seemed nervous when they stood at arrivals but he'd relaxed by the time Joanna emerged and walked right towards them. She threw herself at McCoy and squeezed him hard and something in McCoy's chest felt fit to burst. And then she turned to Kirk.

She'd grown a few inches since the last time he'd seen her and she was already trying to push the envelope of grown-uppedness with a glossy mouth and glittery eye-shadow. McCoy wisely kept his mouth shut, even though the sneakers with the wedge heel were a bit strange.

"How do you do?" She said to Kirk politely and stuck her hand out, all business-like.

"I'm fine, thank you," Kirk said, taking her hand and kissing the back of it instead. Joanna, who apparently had the secret soul of a Southern belle like her father, melted like butter.

 

Dinner went without a hitch.

"You're really cute, did you know that? I can see why my dad likes you," Joanna babbled happily, over her ravioli. "Oh my god, I have so many questions. I hope you don't think it's too weird but would you pretend to be my boyfriend sometime? It's not an obligation or whatever but it would totally make those head bitchleader twins T'Pring and T'Pol soooo jealous." She wiped her mouth daintily with her napkin and looked up at Kirk, who looked like he was about to have a fit.

"No, absolutely not," McCoy intervened, stabbing a potato and using it to point at her.

"Why not!?" Joanna protested, flicking her hair behind her shoulder.

"Because he's daddy's boyfriend, alright?" McCoy snapped, firmly putting the potato in his mouth and chewing it, end of story. He refused to look at Kirk for his reaction but a hand slid onto his thigh and squeezed it under the table.

Joanna rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. "Duh. That's why it's called _pretend_ ," she said, turning to Kirk. "They are so difficult when they get older."

Kirk burst out laughing and passed her the dessert menu.

 

"Man, she is a handful," Kirk said, panting into McCoy's mouth. "And so are you," he leered, as he stroked McCoy until he was hard.

"Please don't bring my teenaged daughter up in any conversation that happens when we're having sex," McCoy gritted out.

Kirk laughed with delight, "I have a thing for McCoys," he chuckled and McCoy tried to find something, anything that he could smother Kirk with.

"For god's sake, keep it down! She is down the hall!" McCoy said, a little panicked and set about finding ways to shut him up. Joanna meant the world to him and so did Kirk. Dinner had gone well, better than he had expected and he didn't want all of that to go to shit because the walls of his house were thin.

"I like her," Kirk said, after he had cleaned up and grudgingly put on a pair of boxers at McCoy's insistence.

"I don't see her as often as I would like," McCoy admitted, turning to hide his face in his pillow. Kirk pulled in tight around him, as if he understood.

"And now?"

"I want to see her more often," McCoy said, tucking Kirk's hand over his chest, wanting more, wanting everything.

 

"You seem really happy, dad," Joanna said, while they watched hot pockets turn in the microwave. She leaned against him and McCoy put his arm around and kissed the top of her head.

"I am," McCoy said, simply, liking this near-grown up Joanna as much as he loved her at birth, at three years old, at seven, ten. "I hope you're happy too."

"Dad, I'm thirteen," Joanna said, as if that explained everything. But she turned her entire body and hugged him, tall enough that her face was in his chest, instead around his knees or his stomach.

"I wish I had done better by you, sweetheart," McCoy mumbled into her hair. Joanna replied by squeezing him tighter.

"Thanks for getting me out of Jesus Camp, dad," Joanna said, looking up at him with his blue eyes and clearly meaning _I'm just happy that you're happy and I love you because you're my dad._

Kirk had already gone to work but insisted he'd be back early so they could drive out to dinner and a movie.

"It's a pretend date," Kirk teased Joanna and then grinned over her head at McCoy. "You can be the over-protective, hovering father who seduces me from her all Mrs. Robinson-like, you cougar you."

"Jesus Christ, watch your mouth!" McCoy said, clapping his hands over Joanna's face while she giggled and squirmed. "You are not allowed to date until you are thirty," McCoy said to Joanna who rolled her eyes at him.

"Don't worry, dad," Joanna said. "I just want the pictures for my Facebook."

 

Joanna, who hardly ever cried even as a baby, teared up at the gate and soaked through McCoy's shoulder as she hugged him and then Kirk.

"Dad, you better let me come over for Christmas," Joanna said, sticking her pinky out at him. "Pinky swear on it," she insisted. Kirk laughed as McCoy obliged her and then punched him in the arm afterward, aware of the fond look that was growing on Joanna's face.

"Add me on Facebook, JT," Joanna said, wriggling her eyebrows at him. "I need to fake all my status to corroborate the pictures."

"Sure thing, Jojo," Kirk said, reaching over to tweak her nose.

"And take care of my dad or I will ruin your internet reputation," Joanna said and then turned to leave for her gate.

"Man, she is something," Kirk said, sliding an arm around McCoy's waist. "I'd like to see her and Spock in the same room."

"Please never repeat that sentence again," McCoy scowled but it was hard because there was a lump in his throat. "But she is," he agreed, reaching over to take Kirk's hand. "Let's head home."

"Can we stop at McDonald's?" Kirk asked, squeezing McCoy's fingers.

"You'd think I had two kids, instead of the one," McCoy grumbled but he knew he would do it only because it was Kirk who was asking.

 

"You missed a spot," McCoy said, putting his feet up on the ledge of his porch rail. He wore only a pair of old boardshorts and was drinking an iced tea, a pair of aviators he hadn't worn in years now perched on his nose.

"This was more fun when I did this to get your attention," Kirk grumbled, pushing the lawn mower across the lawn.

"You insist on putting Jean-Luc out of business, you're going to have to see it through," McCoy pointed out. "That poor kid, didn't you know he was saving money so he could build his own android? You really should be ashamed."

"Yeah, well, now I'm just feeling objectified. Like a piece of meat!" Kirk stopped pushing the mower and jabbed a finger in McCoy's direction.

McCoy looked over his shades. "Oh please," he drawled. "You were this close to prostituting yourself for Mrs. Picard's lemonade. Besides," he said, making it sound loose and dirty and enjoying the dark look on Kirk's face. "I like meat."

Kirk raised one eyebrow and then both. McCoy grinned back.

"Leonard!" Janice called, pulling up in her tiny red convertible. "Ladies' lunch, Tuesday, my house?"

"I'll be there," McCoy yelled back, holding his hand up in a wave.

"Wait a second, is that what this is about?" Kirk yelped and turned off the mower. "When did you start getting invited to ladies' lunch?"

McCoy leaned back in his seat. "Have you tasted Tonia's tuna casserole? Lesser men have killed for it. We sit around, make phone trees. Gossip about our men," he said, smugly. "I hear there's a fund-raising calendar in the works, the naked kind," he burst out laughing at the conflicted look on Kirk's face.

"I can't believe they made you an honorary lady!" Kirk marched over to the porch. "If you get to have go to the ladies' lunch, I want a...a Mafia-themed poker night! With whiskey! And cigars!" He paused to think about it. "Wii Tennis and Mario Kart!" He added, crossing his arms.

McCoy stood and leaned over the porch rail. "You can have whatever you want," he said and kissed him.

 

\- END (OR IS IT?) -

 

 

 

Three Outtakes!

1\. [coup d'etat]

"Hikaru," Chekov said, sticking his head out of Examination Room Two. "Hikaru, is the coast clear?"

"Coast is clear," Sulu said, coming around the corner. "No more appointments so I made him go home early. You okay with that?"

"I thought he would be less high-strung when he finally started getting laid regularly," Chekov said, finally coming out.

"Right?" Sulu said, digging around for his iPhone. "Okay, I should probably feel bad that we're helping Jim avoid Dr. McCoy by telling him when he's headed home but you know," he said, pocketing the phone. "I kind of like being able to get off early too." He quirked an eyebrow and then leaned in, sliding his mouth over Chekov's.

"I knew there was some kind of coup going on," Chekov said, wrapping his arms around Sulu's neck.

"You wanna go home and get all dirty Russian on me?" Sulu said, grinning at him.

 

 

2\. [movie night]

"Are you crying?" Kirk asked in disbelief, sitting wedged between father and daughter on the couch.

"Shut up, you don't understand," Joanna said, snuffling into a handkerchief as Scarlett tumbled down the stairs. "Gone with the Wind is one of the most beautiful movies ever." She hugged a pillow to her chest and reached for a Kleenex to blow her nose.

"I was asking your dad," Kirk said, mildly, reaching for the popcorn.

 

 

3\. [Spock makes a joke]

Spock and Jim were playing chess in the guesthouse.

"You do realize that it is no longer an option for you to be staying here, when you are already in an established relationship with the doctor next door," Spock said, taking another of Jim's pawns with his bishop.

"I don't think he realizes I've sort of moved in," Jim said. "Is that bad?"

"Logically, he is happy to have you there," Spock said, staring at the board. "Logically, my guesthouse will be empty and that makes Nyota happy. When Nyota is happy, she and I engage in--."

"--okay, that ends there. I get it," Jim held up a hand. "But I should tell him shouldn't I? Because with Bones, it's never really planned. He just went yeah, toss your stuff in with my laundry, it's not a big deal. And help yourself to the fridge. And stay over, every night. He never asks where I live. I'm still waiting for him to get my celphone number."

"Hm," Spock said, making it sound like _I really don't care._ "I fail to understand why you will not simply give him your number. Is that not the proper decorum when engaging a close, personal relationship?"

"I'm being a girl about this, aren't I? I'm waiting for him to ask for it so he call me back except he hasn't because _I'm practically living with him anyway_ ," Jim said. "Oh, and check."

Spock bristled the slightest bit. Only someone like Jim who has known him long enough can tell. Spock looked up at him after a long moment of staring at the chess board. "Jim, as far as I can tell you have the upper hand in this relationship. I think that you should merely step forward and profess how you feel. In chess terms," Spock raised a bishop. "You act as if you are a bishop, able only to move in one particular direction when in fact--" He reached across and knocked over Jim's queen.

"--you are a queen and can move wherever you want," Spock said, looking up, his eyes glinting with just the tiniest hint of amusement while Jim gaped at him.

"Checkmate."

 

\- (FOR REAL, THE) END -

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to everyone who wanted a sequel...you got it. You should probably read the first one for full entertainment value. If you missed the art, it's here.. This one has less animals but more meddling neighbors but I still hope you enjoy it. It hadn't occurred to me to expand this universe but as it turns out, there's more when it came from. And to drive home the fact that I am a hopeless nerd, the theme song of this sequel is none other than "Clark Gable" by The Postal Service. The title is from the movie Gone with the Wind and other titles from the film that I considered for this story were "A cat's a better mother than you" and "Don't bother me anymore, and don't call me sugar" which are so Bones-ppropriate to me.


End file.
